


A Series of Conversations

by bluepard



Category: Wolverine and the X-Men (Comics)
Genre: Conversations, Friendship, Gen, Jean Grey School, Nicknames, Self-Acceptance, Students
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-04
Updated: 2013-12-04
Packaged: 2018-01-03 10:28:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1069402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluepard/pseuds/bluepard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just interaction and dialogue between the two characters, not a story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Series of Conversations

Evan liked Quentin best when he was on the roof. Evan had stumbled on the fact that Quentin was a less angry conversationalist whenever he was hanging out there, and would go on long rambling rants that were informative instead of just confrontational (at least sometimes). Evan wasn't sure why this was. He thought that maybe even Quentin got tired of being angry all the time, or at least violently angry. That and he liked to tan.

"You are really pale," said Evan.

"Shove it," said Quentin, "Do you even tan?"

Quentin reached for him, and Evan swatted at his hand before he could pull down his pants at the waist to check for paleness. Quentin didn't seem to like to be touched but had apparently decided that if Evan was going to get "handsy" with him, he'd get handsy right back. He also apparently didn't understand the difference between affection and obnoxious poking, or maybe he was just pretending he didn't.

Somehow tanning turned into talk of the sun and black holes and how their sun would not become a black hole, and how there was a theory that their universe was a hologram at the center of a black hole--

Evan enjoyed these conversations, although Logan had not exactly been happy to find he'd been spending so much time with Quentin.

"Wolverine told me not to let you take advantage of me," said Evan, "What did he mean?"

"Probably that you believe every damn thing anyone tells you."

"I do not!"

"Oh? How about when Dog told you Wolverine had killed their dad? Ever occur to you that might be a lie to shut you up?" Quentin shrugged. "Though I'm sure it wasn't."

Evan looked away. It was easy to believe that Wolverine had done something like that, especially so soon after seeing him kill his son. But Quentin was right, that didn't mean he had done it.

"So I should just stop trusting people?" said Evan.

"Yes. Stop being so naïve. Stop buying into everything," said Quentin.

"Does that mean I should stop listening to you?"

"Listen _only_ to me."

"You're not going to corrupt me, no matter what Wolverine thinks," said Evan.

"Is that a challenge?" Quentin grinned at him toothily, face wrinkling into something demonic. "But it's not the things you know are coming that you have to worry about, kid. Remember, I was Xavier's top student once."

Evan blinked at him in owlish surprise. "You were?"

"Well, yeah." Quentin's look of demonic glee disappeared, and he changed tactics before Evan could inquire. 

Evan pursed his lips, curious about the whole idea of Quentin the prize pupil. It had been strange enough to find out that Quentin was actually smart, to discover the weird things he built in his room while complaining loudly that they never let him have anything good just because it might be explosive--"As if I need explosives."-- 

Quentin could be engaging if you were the studious type, as Evan was, but he just chose not to be. Evan couldn't imagine why. 

"Something wrong, Kid A?"

Evan pressed his lips together into a thin line and leveled his gaze at Quentin. Like this! Every time he thought they were beyond this, that Quentin would call him by his actual name, would recognize and respect his feelings, this would happen all over again. It was almost as though Quentin were trying to remind him he would never be anyone else to him.

"I'm not Apocalypse," Evan said flatly. He was getting tired of it.

"Hey, that A could stand for anything," said Quentin, in that tone of voice that made it clear he knew he was being a brat and wanted you to know he knew he was being a brat, "Kid Anarchy would be choice."

"Anarchy and Apocalypse are kind of the same thing," said Evan.

"Kid Atrocity."

"No."

"Kid Aggression."

"No. " 

Ma and Pa had always said to ignore bullies, but ignoring Quentin just made him more determined to get a reaction. He would sit there and poke at your wounds all day until you flinched.

"Kid Abuse."

"Quentin ..."

"Kid Awkward, Kid Annoying, Kid Awful ... "

Evan very deliberately pulled out a book.

"Well I refuse to work with Kid America. Or would you be Kid Africa? Kid African-American? Baby Black?" Quentin flashed his teeth in what probably didn't count as a smile.

"Now you're trying too hard." 

"I like that one. It could be your rapper name."

Evan replied by rolling his eyes. Honestly. "I listen to country and bluegrass. And some rock."

Quentin made a face, and Evan made one back at him.

"Stop trying to stereotype me," said Evan.

"You're stereotyping yourself. You're from Kansas, and you listen to country?"

Evan stuck his tongue out in reply. Quentin opened his mouth to continue, but Evan interrupted him. "Kid Obedience."

Quentin blinked in confusion. "What?

"Kid Optimism. Kid Oneness. Kid Open-minded."

Quentin frowned deeply as he processed this offense. He knew he shouldn't, but Evan was smiling just a little. It was rare that he could play one of Quentin's games because usually they were too mean-spirited for him to join in.

"Kid Okay-dokey."

"I can kill you with my mind, you know."

Evan chuckled. It was impossible not to; Quentin looked like an angry pink cat. Surely he'd be feeling those claws later, but for now ... 

"Quaint Quiet."

"With my mind."

Whatever his original intentions, from then on whenever someone called him Kid A, Evan would remember the conversation and wonder what else the A could stand for. Quentin seemed to forget he was planning to kill Evan with his mind, barging into his room just a few hours later.

"We are going to the movies together," Quentin announced. Evan really needed to start locking his door, but he found people were less likely to come in through the window this way.

"We are?" said Evan.

"Yup. Logan's paying." Quentin pulled out and began counting some bills that were probably stolen out of one of Logan's jacket pockets.

"You shouldn't steal," said Evan, knowing that they had diamonds growing off the trees but also that Quentin would've taken it even if they hadn't.

"Yeah, yeah. You coming or not?"

Evan nodded before he'd had a chance to think it through. Were the others coming? Was he only invited because they turned Quentin down? Was he--

"It's not ... inappropriate or anything, is it?" said Evan.

"I'm not taking you to see porn, not unless you're planning to put out," said Quentin flatly. Evan couldn't tell if he were joking. "Why so suspicious?"

"You're the one who said I should be less trusting." Evan frowned, remembering something. "It doesn't matter anyway. I can't go into town looking like this. They're pretty accepting about having mutants around, but ... "

But he looked like Apocalypse.

Quentin waved this objection off. "I can just disguise you, or did you forget the whole omega level telepath thing?"

"Disguise...?" Evan barely got that out before being interrupted. Quentin dragged Evan into the bathroom by his elbow. Evan followed in some confusion only to jump in surprise as they entered. Over the sink was a wide mirror, but it wasn't Evan's reflection in it. Or--yes, it was. Evan shook his head, and the reflection followed perfectly down to the movement of his bangs. It was Evan but with brown skin instead of gray, black eyes instead of red, and lips that ... well, stopped where they should.

"Just a few minor alterations," said Quentin. He must have been projecting it into Evan's mind. "Doesn't take much of a stretch of the imagination."

"I'm black," said Evan stupidly. What he meant was that he looked like a black kid, a normal kid, not a mutant. It was like seeing a completely different person even though his features were all the same.

"Well, yeah," said Quentin, rolling his eyes, "Although according to the government census, you're white. You and all the Arabs. Now that's identity theft."

At another time Evan would have risen to this obvious bait and asked what the hell Quentin was talking about, letting him go off on some rant about the government. Evan was pretty sure that the only reason Quentin talked to him was because Evan didn't reply to everything he said with "Sure, whatever, Quentin," like everyone else did. But Evan was a little too distracted.

It had never occurred to Evan to think it strange that he didn't look like his parents. It never came up in the simulation. He figured people just looked like themselves. He had wondered why he didn't look like anyone else, and his parents had said his looks were unusual. But unusual was never phrased as a bad thing. That's why, when Evan first saw a picture of Apocalypse, he assumed coincidence. It was strange that the first person who had ever looked anything like him was so unlike him, but it was just coincidence.

Except not. Evan was more than unusual, and it was definitely a bad thing.

Evan tilted his head one way and the other, examining his reflection. Could this have been him as a normal person? An actual simple boy from Kansas?

Evan shook his head. It was too strange. He never was this person. He turned away from his reflection and to Quentin, who had his eyebrows raised.

"Okay, let's go," said Evan.

Quentin shrugged and walked past Evan and through the door, the illusion dissipating as he did. Evan gave himself one last look in the mirror, feeling oddly reassured to see himself looking back.


End file.
